Distant Thunder
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: "Where the hell did this thing come from?" Emma murmured under her breath. Those clouds were nowhere in the sky when they'd gone below decks to eat and as far as she was aware, there had been no storms in the forecast today. (or, a sudden storm strands Emma and Killian at sea during a lunch date)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Distant Thunder  
 **Summary:** "Where the hell did this thing come from?" Emma murmured under her breath. Those clouds were nowhere in the sky when they'd gone below decks to eat and as far as she was aware, there had been no storms in the forecast today.  
 **Spoilers:** Up through 5x11, "Swan Song."  
 **Characters:** Emma Swan and Killian Jones, with eventual cameo appearances by Snow and Charming. Captain Swan fluff, ladies and gents.  
 **Rating/Warning:** T. Captain Swan fluff.  
 **Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just trying to pass the time during hiatus.  
 **Author's Note:** These two will be the death of me, I swear. Their love story is so sweeping and epic but we don't get to see a lot of the little quiet moments between. Here's one that, though not referenced in the story itself, in my mind takes place sometime after 5B and everything has settled down a little bit. Title was snagged from another track off the _Secret of Mana_ soundtrack (yay 90s video games). Feedback makes me very happy! Enjoy. :)

* * *

Killian Jones boarded the _Jolly Roger_ and then turned to face the ramp, a teasing smile on his face as he extended his hand to Emma Swan. Emma hid a smile of her own and grasped his hand, steadying herself against the slight rocking of the ship as she climbed aboard.

"Thank you," she said, prompting him to give her a reverent nod of acknowledgment.

As he turned to lead her onto the deck, she finally allowed her smirk to show. Always a gentleman, indeed.

Emma inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp and salty sea air. The cool breeze off the water was a stark contrast to the heat of the sun as it beat down on the top of her head. "You all right, love?" Killian asked when she stumbled a little as the wooden ship rocked beneath her feet in the gentle surf.

"Yeah," she replied, smiling at him. "Just finding my sea legs."

The smile with which he graced her in response made her heart beat just a little bit faster.

This wasn't the first lunch date they'd spent aboard the _Jolly Roger_ and Emma highly doubted it would be the last. There was, however, something about the two of them being alone on the sea that made each date feel like the first.

Emma never got tired of it. She never got tired of watching her pirate cast them off and man the helm of his ship. She never got tired of standing at the helm herself with Killian standing behind her, his hand guiding hers as he taught her how to interpret the ship's movements through the water via the differing pressures on the wheel. And she never got tired of the time spent on the open ocean, just her and her pirate, the rest of Storybrooke a picturesque skyline along the horizon.

She disappeared down the hatch to set the takeout bag from Granny's down on the table in the galley. When she climbed the ladder back up to the deck, Storybrooke was already a hundred yards behind them. "Where to today, love?" Killian asked her as he always did.

"Surprise me," she replied as she always did.

He never took her to the same spot twice. He also never took her out of cell range because although she enjoyed the time away, they'd learned the hard way that the savior couldn't relax if she was out of contact for very long.

Since Killian wanted these little getaways to be relaxing for her, he and Henry charted out the distance at which the lad's phone lost signal. Killian simply stayed within that distance whenever he took Emma sailing.

Today was no different. They took off for a random spot on the ocean, the salty sea breeze blowing through their hair as Storybrooke grew smaller and smaller behind them. Killian stood behind her at the helm, his hand over hers as she gripped the smooth wood of the wheel, and steadied their course when she sent the ship too far off of it.

They didn't speak; they simply reveled in the togetherness. And when Killian dropped a gentle kiss to the top her her head, Emma closed her eyes and smiled.

God, she loved this.

Eventually Killian stepped away from Emma so he could lower the sails and drop the anchor. She registered the lost of his warmth immediately. Still, she stood at the helm and watched her pirate slow the ship down and allow her to stop. The _Jolly_ bobbed lightly in the waves, and Emma smiled at the gentle motion as Killian walked back up to her. "Shall we go below decks and eat, love?" he asked, nodding towards the hatch.

Emma's smile grew wider as she shook her head. "Not yet." She had something to do first.

When Killian arched a bewildered eyebrow at her, she grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. A deep, passionate, hungry kiss that left them both a little lightheaded and breathing heavily when they finally broke for air. They brought their foreheads together and as one tried to catch their breath. "If you're not careful, Swan," Killian murmured, "I'll be wanting to take you below decks for reasons other than physical nourishment."

Emma grinned at her pirate as she drew away. "Now we can eat."

"Bloody hell, lass," he muttered as she walked towards the hatch, a smug smile on her lips.

* * *

As always, Granny provided a fantastic lunch. Emma's grilled cheese was perfectly crisp and melty and her onion rings were fried deliciousness. Killian's chicken salad sandwich had just the right proportion of chicken to mayonnaise and his fries had just the right amount of salt. And since Emma had worked her own magic up to rewarming food, the fact they were going to sail twenty or so minutes out on the open ocean before eating made no difference whatsoever.

Emma set the food out, smiling when she withdrew an extra cup of ranch. Emma used the ranch for her onion rings but Granny had taken to tucking that extra cup in free of charge after Killian mentioned that he liked his fries much better dipped in ranch than drizzled with ketchup.

"I don't know about you, love," Killian said as he grabbed a couple small metal cups from the cabinet in the corner of the room, "but I'm looking forward to a leisurely lunch today."

"I am, too," Emma smiled. Her smile widened when Killian set the cups on the table and filled them halfway with rum from his flask. Apparently he planned on washing down their milkshakes with something a bit stronger today.

On typical lunch dates, they had to eat relatively quickly so they could be back in Storybrooke before Emma's lunch hour was up. (Not that David cared all that much about her time in and time out but he did have a tendency to get all … dad-like when they lingered over the meal. Emma found that tendency of his simultaneously heartwarming and embarrassing.) Today, though, Emma and Killian were under no such time constraints because the sheriff and savior had managed to garner herself an entire afternoon off.

(Truth be told, David was the one who'd shoved her out of the station, insisting that since Storybrooke was unusually quiet, they were just doing paperwork anyway so she might as well take advantage of the peace and take some time for herself. She'd put up a little fight but he hadn't taken no for an answer. Killian had been thrilled when she'd told him that their lunch date had turned into an entire afternoon on the water together.)

So today, they had time to linger over the meal, and something about that extra time was making this meal in particular feel special. The food was the usual and the venue was the usual but the spark in the air between them was not at all the usual. It was charged with an almost giddy anticipation of time and relaxation and togetherness.

That kiss on the deck before coming down here had helped that spark a lot, Emma was sure.

They ate companionably with Killian telling what Emma called his "whoppers," stories of his adventures on the high seas that were about ninety-nine percent made up. Killian of course knew she didn't believe a single word he was saying but it didn't matter; he found it funny when she rolled her eyes or interrupted him with an indignant, "Seriously?!"

"So there we were," he was saying to her now, "a decent-sized pirate crew against the entire Royal Navy of the Northern Kingdom. Since we'd just had a run-in with another pirate crew, our weapons stores were a touch depleted."

Oh, Emma totally knew where this was going. "If you tell me you loaded the silverware into the cannons, I'm going to call bullshit," she laughed. "You totally cribbed that from _Pirates of the Caribbean_."

He grinned at her, that shit-eating grin of his that left her a little weak in the knees. "Aye, love, you caught me. You once told me I was a regular Jack Sparrow; I simply asked your lad who that was and he showed me on the Netflix."

She grinned back and reached across the table for his flask. They'd finished the rum in their cups and were now passing the flask back and forth. (Hey, if Emma didn't have to go back to work, she was going to take full advantage of it.)

Since he was busted, Killian moved on to a different whopper, this time about one of his oh so very many quests for treasure. "If we found the chest of doubloons, it would have allowed all of us to live rather comfortably the rest of our ..."

Emma frowned when he let the sentence trail off. He was frowning, too, his brow furrowed and his hand flat on the table as if feeling for something. "No," he murmured, more to himself than to her, "it can't be."

"What is it?"

"I'll be right back, love," he said by way of an answer as he pushed himself to his feet.

Confused and unwilling to let him do … whatever he was going to do on his own, Emma stood and followed him. As soon as he opened the hatch, she understood.

The whipping wind took the heavy hatch door out of Killian's hand and slammed it flat on the deck. The dark clouds overhead were a portent of what was to come. "Bloody hell," Killian muttered, vaulting the ladder and scrambling back up on deck.

A stunned Emma followed him. Once topside, she immediately regretted her decision. The ship was bobbing so violently in the rising waves that she grasped Killian's jacket in an effort to stay upright. The pitching of the horizon before her instantly turned her stomach and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep her heavy lunch and the rum from making a second appearance.

"Where the hell did this thing come from?" she murmured under her breath. Those clouds were nowhere in the sky when they'd gone below decks to eat and as far as she was aware, there had been no storms in the forecast today.

It was as if her voice brought Killian back to reality. She felt his hand caressing her cheek and she chanced blinking her eyes open to look at him.

Focusing on Killian's face helped calm her stomach a touch. A tender smile was on his lips and sympathy for her sudden nausea was written across his features but in his eyes, Emma could see the more than capable pirate captain he truly was taking charge. "I don't know, love, but it came on so suddenly that we don't stand a chance of outrunning it now. The safest thing to do is to remain anchored, seal the hatch, and wait the storm out below decks."

If she'd been out here with anyone else, Emma would have been at least a little apprehensive, but with Killian, she knew she was in safe, capable hands. Instead, she ignored the roiling in her stomach and arched a teasing eyebrow at him. "You mean to tell me we're actually going to batten down the hatches?"

His frown of consternation and concern melted away and an amused smile took its place. "Aye, love, apparently we are."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Y'all are still the best. Thank you for the reviews and follows and favorites! Here be the next part. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

There was much to do to prepare the _Jolly Roger_ to battle the elements but first on Killian's agenda was getting his Swan out of the line of fire, as it were. She was trying her hardest to hide it but Killian's couple centuries on the sea had taught him quite well the tinge that came over the skin during a bout of seasickness. Emma's face was pale and her lips were practically colorless. She was probably a minute or two from losing her lunch over the rail.

"Come, love," he said tenderly as he held his hand out to her. "Let's get you below decks."

Emma, stubborn to her core, shook her head. "Isn't there work to do up here?"

Killian arched his brow at her. "Aye, there is but I think you'll find sitting below decks easier on your stomach."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "I want to help."

Before he had the chance to argue with her – swabbing vomit off the deck during an approaching storm was not high on his list of fun things to do – the wind kicked up, causing the ocean to rise angrily in response. The ship pitched in the sudden waves, sending poor Emma stumbling into Killian. He righted her with a gentle smile as she fought to hold down her lunch. "Below decks, love. Captain's orders."

This time, she nodded without a single word of argument.

Killian wrapped his arm around her shoulders to both hold her upright and give her some comfort as he walked her over to the hatch. His watchful eye stayed on her as she descended the ladder and only once she was down safely did he descend himself.

Emma started to take a seat at the table but stopped halfway down. The aroma of the remnants of their lunch must have turned her stomach because she paled again and stepped away from the table. "You should lie down, Swan," Killian said, nodding towards his bunk in the corner.

Again, she didn't argue. She simply gave another little nod and curled up on the bed, her eyes following his movements as he put the rest of the uneaten food away. "I don't get it," she said, frowning. "The storm in Neverland was worse than this and I didn't feel like I needed to hurl then."

Killian smiled; his Swan certainly had a way with words. "We sailed through the storm when we were in Neverland," he reminded her. "We weren't stopped at anchor like we are now. The bobbing is more noticeable when we're not sailing forward."

"Apparently bobbing and I don't get along."

The food was as put away as Killian could get it at the moment. He'd take the bag with him when he went up on deck to finish securing everything in preparation for the storm. Now he focused his undivided attention on getting Emma in a position to control her seasickness. "Bobbing doesn't get along with a great many people, love. Close your eyes. It'll help."

He expected a snide remark at the very least but she once again surprised him by doing as instructed. Almost immediately, the tension on her features relaxed. "Oh, that _does_ help," she murmured in sweet relief.

Killian smiled as he drew the blanket over her shoulders and eased down on edge of the mattress beside her. "Your world probably has a more technical explanation but I've worked out that the nausea comes from the motion one is experiencing and one's perception of the motion not being the same. The constant up and down is disorienting as well. Closing one's eyes takes perception out of the equation."

"I'm sure my mom knows the scientific explanation," Emma murmured. She had been a school teacher for twenty-eight years, after all. "No matter the explanation, all I know is that I'm not opening my eyes again until the storm passes."

He chuckled as he brushed his thumb along her forehead. She smiled at the comfort. "I'm going to go batten down the hatches now, Emma," he said, causing her smile to shift into a smirk. "I'll be right back."

"Okay. Be careful."

"Will do."

Killian pushed himself to his feet. Before heading back up on deck, he placed a wooden bucket on the floor beside the bunk. Just in case.

Once on deck, Killian took a moment to take stock of the situation in which he suddenly found himself. From the look of the clouds, they weren't in for a big storm. Rain, heavy wind, thunder, maybe even some lightning, but nothing too egregious.

Which was, of course, a very good thing. A storm this size required a touch less preparation than some of the others he'd had to ride out at anchor.

He secured the sails, tied down everything he could on deck, and let out a little slack on the anchor line. The absolute last thing they needed was for the anchor line to snap; they'd be at the mercy of Mother Nature's raw fury if that happened.

Once everything was as secure as it could be, Killian climbed down the ladder a final time, pulled the hatch closed, and sealed it. Now the _Jolly_ was ready to wait out the storm. Hopefully for Emma's sake, it would be a swift one. Killian himself had weathered many a storm on the sea but his poor Swan had only one other storm under her belt.

Despite her insistence that she was keeping her eyes closed for the duration, he found her sitting up in the bunk, her back against the wall, and speaking softly into her talking phone. "We're fine, Mom," she was saying. "Killian's securing the ship and we're going to wait out the storm on the water. He assured me it'll be uncomfortable but perfectly safe."

At Killian's approach, she met his gaze and gave a slight roll of her eyes, making him smirk. The princess must have been behaving like … well, a concerned mother, calling to check on her baby and make sure she was all right.

"Yes, I'll keep you updated," Emma said, heaving a sigh so soft Killian doubted Snow heard it through the phone. "Tell everyone I said to stay dry and be safe."

After a little more conversation, Emma disconnected the call and tucked the talking phone under the pillow. "Henry's at Regina's, Dad's at the station, and Mom and the squirt are home," she informed him through another slight roll of her eyes. "You'd think my mom's never been through a thunderstorm before."

She sounded annoyed but Killian could see down past the independent adult facade to the little girl who was thrilled to have a mom who loved her enough to worry over her. And he could see the relief in her own eyes that Henry was safe from the storm, no matter how minor and commonplace it might be. "To be fair to your mother," he said, his tone teasing, "strange things do happen in this town. You once went out to investigate a power outage and almost ended up freezing to death. Not to mention that the last time you weathered a storm at sea, you leaped off the rail, got cracked on the head with a piece of rigging, and almost drowned."

Emma smiled. "Yeah, okay, point taken. I take it everything's secure?"

"Aye, love." He sat down on the bed beside her, resting his own back against the wall. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better," she admitted. She wasn't just saying that, either; some of the color had returned to her face. "I don't notice the bobbing as much down here."

"You can't see the horizon so the bobbing feels less extreme," he explained. "Just don't look out the window."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, for one, you'd see the horizon again. But for another, since the sill is another steady line in your field of vision, you'd perceive it as a second horizon."

Emma groaned, making him chuckle. Then she shifted closer to him, slouching down to rest her head on his shoulder. Killian automatically wrapped his arm around her, holding her impossibly closer.

It was this, the casual intimacy between them, that touched him the most. Had anyone told him when he first met Emma Swan that she could be rather snuggly when she wanted to be, he would have laughed in that person's face. But oh yes, Emma Swan did have a cuddly side to her; it had just been buried underneath walls built by pain and loss and disappointment and betrayal.

"Were you ever seasick?" she asked after letting the comfortable silence linger a moment. She must have sensed the teasingly indignantly arched eyebrow he sent her, because she looked up at him with a smirk. "We're kind of stuck here for the next little while. We might as well talk."

"I agree, love, but asking a pirate if he gets seasick is practically an insult. I spent most of my many years on the sea."

She grinned at the mock offense in his tone. "Many _many_ years," she teasingly amended for him, "and you weren't always a pirate."

Killian could not help but smile. "Aye, many many years. And you're correct; I wasn't always a pirate. In answer to your question, I do have a few vague memories of being very small and being sent to my bunk during harsh storms. I didn't do any better with the bobbing than you did."

"You clearly got over it, though," she pointed out.

"Many many years of practice," he replied, making her chuckle.

The distant rumble of thunder sounded overhead, causing them both to start and look up at the ceiling. "And so it begins," Emma muttered.

Merely a moment later, the ship pitched violently in what Killian realized must have been a rogue wave. Emma's stomach must have lurched again because she paled, let out a groan, and squeezed her eyes shut. "You should try to rest, love," he said, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "It helps if you can sleep through the worst of it."

"Yeah, all right," she readily agreed, at which point Killian knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she felt absolutely miserable.

They shifted on the bed, Killian pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and Emma curling up on her side facing the wall. He once again drew the covers over her shoulders and then stood to let her rest.

He'd only taken one step away from the bunk when her soft voice stopped him. "Lie down with me."

How the soft request still made his heart race was beyond Killian. They _lived_ together. They slept beside each other every night and woke up beside each other every morning. And yet her request for him to stay with her still sent him to cloud nine.

Her eyes were closed and a faint blush colored her pale cheeks. Clearly the request still had an effect on her as well. "As you wish, love," he said, making her smile.

A touched smile on his own lips, Killian slipped his hook from the brace and curled up on the bed behind Emma. For reasons he couldn't comprehend, he felt a little awkward but he relaxed immensely when Emma reached behind her, grasped his arm, and drew it over her side, inviting him to hold her closer.

And he did so, snuggling close enough that he closed the small gap between them. And in a moment, he understood why he'd felt so awkward. This was the last of Emma's walls coming down. This was Emma allowing him to comfort her when she didn't feel well not in words or with gestures but through close physical contact.

As if she could read his mind, an already somewhat sleepy-voiced Emma said, "If you speak one word of either mushiness or innuendo, I'll deck you."

Killian chuckled. "So noted, Swan."


	3. Chapter 3

Thunder rumbled low in the sky, a constant ominous sound that, coupled with the rough motion of the ship in the waves, left Emma tense and unable to relax enough to let sleep overtake her. Every time she started to drift off, she would flinch awake from either the rolling motion of the _Jolly_ or the rolling sound over their heads.

Killian shifted impossibly closer to her, tightened his arm around her, and buried his nose in her hair. "Sleep, love," he whispered. "I'll be right here, and you'll feel much better when you wake."

"I'm trying," she replied, "and you're verging on mushy."

Killian smirked but didn't say another word. He could tell from her voice that she was on the brink of sleep and sure enough her breathing deepened and evened out after a few minutes. "There we go, Swan," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. With any luck, she'd be able to sleep through the worst of the storm.

He'd had every intention of slipping from bed once she was out to let her have her nap in peace but the second he withdrew his arm from around her, she scrunched her nose and whimpered in protest. Killian froze. Another attempt a few minutes later yielded the same results, though this time the whimper morphed into an insistent little grunt. An amused Killian stopped trying to get up. She clearly wanted him to stay, so stay he would.

His only question now was what in blazes was he going to do while she slept? Just as he was about to attempt to slip away from her just long enough to grab his sketch pad and charcoal, he thought of another way to pass the time. He slipped his hand under the pillow and retrieved her talking phone. Both Emma and Henry had told him many times of the various means of entertainment on the magical little devices they carried around but he'd never understood the point of them.

Until now, that is. Now, he was quite thankful that his Swan's talking phone was equipped with a few of the little distractions.

It took him a moment to figure out how to access them. There was only one he recognized so he touched the little picture to bring up the game. He'd watched the lad play it a few times; it involved trying to find as many smaller words with the six given letters as he could. Emma had put the game on her own device after watching Henry play it on his.

It took another moment of thought and recollection for Killian to remember what he needed to do in order to enter the word but soon he was finding word after word and playing round after round.

Outside, the storm raged on. The wind whistled as it rocked the _Jolly_ , which in turn creaked and groaned with the movement. The thunder was almost constant now and every so often, a fork of lightning lit the sky out the windows. The rain pounded down, pattering at the windows and on the deck above them. Killian was certainly glad that he'd sealed the hatch and not just closed it.

Beside him, Emma remained sound asleep. Every so often, she would shift position slightly or mumble under her breath, and Killian smiled each time she did.

The sheer domesticity of the situation took his breath away. It seemed simultaneously not all that long ago and a lifetime ago that he could only dream of being this close and having this level of intimacy with Emma Swan. Now that he had it, he was going to make damn sure he reveled in every second of it.

He was in the midst of a particularly difficult round – what the hell six-letter word contained a V, two As, a Y, an R, and an I? – when a loud crash somewhere outside simultaneously made him jump and woke Emma from a dead sleep. "What the hell was that?" she muttered groggily, the panic from her rude awakening making her breath catch in her throat.

"It sounded like lightning struck the water somewhere near us," Killian said as he scrambled off the bed, word game forgotten. A glance out the window revealed nothing out of the ordinary but only a trip up the ladder to the deck would ensure that the _Jolly_ hadn't been struck.

"Should we move?" Emma asked. She sounded a little more awake this time, awake and nervous.

"Depends on where it hit. Stay down here, love. I just want to take a quick peek up on deck."

Emma frowned, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. In an instant, Killian knew he was going to have company on his little investigation.

His instinct was proven correct when, as he unsealed the hatch, she scrambled off the bed and joined him at the ladder. "It's going to be rough up there, Swan," he cautioned her. The last thing they needed was for Emma's seasickness to rear its ugly head in the middle of the storm.

"Don't care. If we do have to move, you're going to need help. Besides, I'm much rather you not have the chance to get struck by lightning. One trip to the Underworld is more than enough for one lifetime, thank you."

He smirked at her and as one, they headed up to the deck to check on the _Jolly._

Much to Killian's relief, his marvel of a ship was still in pristine condition. Wherever the lightning had struck, it hadn't struck the Jolly. It was, however, forking through the sky at an alarming rate – much more frequently than it appeared through the windows – and striking the water with loud crashes that were frighteningly close.

"Whoa," Emma murmured as she made her way to the rail. The wind was whipping her hair into her eyes and the driving rain had already soaked her but the raw power of Mother Nature had completely captured her attention.

With a soft smile, Killian stepped up beside her. He'd weathered countless storms on the sea, so many that he'd forgotten how impressive they truly were. It took seeing the storm through his Swan's eyes for him to remember. Her eyes were on the storm but he only had eyes for her. Watching her watch the storm, spying the wonder on her face … that was a wonder all its own.

A bolt of lightning forked through the sky and splashed down a couple yards ahead of them, causing both Emma and Killian to jump. Emma even let out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her heart as she muttered, "Jesus."

The two of them exchanged a glance and were instantly in agreement. They needed to move.

Only later would Killian realize with amazement that he hadn't needed to give Emma any instruction. She simply headed over to raise the anchor while he unfurled the sails. In an instant, the whipping wind began taking them away from the lightning and back towards the Storybrooke harbor.

His first instinct was to let the winds take them all the way back home but it soon became clear that the raging sea would render that plan impossible. All around them were walls of water; the _Jolly_ was sloshing around like one of the little toy boats Neal took into the bathtub.

Though they were moving, the bobbing was still too much for his poor Swan and her already weakened stomach. She'd paled considerably and Killian could see her swallowing hard in an effort to control her gag reflex. "You all right, love?" he asked, stepping up beside her and resting his hand on her shoulder.

She nodded but Killian could tell she longed to head back below decks and lie down again. Not that she'd ever admit it. Even if the waves hadn't blocked their way home, this was where the trek would have ended until the storm blew over. There was no way Killian was going to let Emma spend any of her time hanging over the rail. "We'll drop anchor here," he said, "and wait out the rest of the storm below decks."

Emma shook her head. "Not unless it's safe."

"It's perfectly safe," he assured her. "Judging by the direction of the wind and the way the clouds are moving, by the time the lightning catches up with us again, it'll be a few miles to the southeast."

It took her a moment – it wasn't that she doubted him; she was simply trying to keep her food in her stomach – but she eventually nodded her agreement.

Of course, she would not hear of going below decks without him so together they dropped anchor and secured the ship. When they were finally able to descend the ladder and seal the hatch, they were both soaked to the bone and shivering. The color hadn't yet returned to Emma's face, indicating that her seasickness was still as strong as ever.

She didn't complain, though Killian figured she was probably just too stubborn to admit it. Without a word, he held his flask out to her. "Seriously with the rum?" she asked incredulously.

"It'll help settle your stomach."

Though it was clear she didn't quite believe him, she was in a playful enough mood despite the storm and the nausea to snatch the flask from him and take a large swig. Her face lost a tiny bit of color at first but then a touch of pink rose to her cheeks as the warmth of the alcohol spread through her.

"Thanks, that did help a little. Although, what I wouldn't give right now to still have the ability to poof us into some dry clothes," Emma joked through chattering teeth as she handed the flask back to him.

A sudden memory of the night she got trapped in the ice cave hit Killian square in the face and he had to blink to clear it from his mind. That awful, awful night was seared into his memory; the panic he'd felt at the thought of losing her still had the ability to make his heart race.

And now Killian wished more than ever that she could poof them into some dry clothes, too.

A moment later, it hit him. He had some dry clothes right here on the ship. Nightclothes, mostly, but they would do in a pinch.

He strode over to a trunk in the corner and retrieved a couple of nightshirts and some pants. With a smirk, he handed Emma a white nightshirt and a pair of the pants. She accepted the garments with a teasing arched eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you do in fact own some items of clothing that aren't black leather?"

"Aye, but keep that information to yourself, if you please," he teased right back. "It would do irreparable harm to my reputation."

Emma rolled her eyes but she was smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** And we've reached the end. Thank you all for the reviews and follows and favorites! You're honestly the best readers ever. :)

* * *

Emma's nausea must have been obvious to Killian because after they changed and hung their clothes over beams to dry, he led her back to the bunk. His voice was soft as he said, "Back under the covers, love. The blanket will help to warm you."

She was sure it would but their adventure on the deck had left her too wired to even think about trying to sleep through the rest of the storm. There was, however, something else she wanted to do but wasn't sure how to bring it up. It only took one look at her pirate, who was still shivering slightly despite his dry clothes, for her to figure it out.

She sat down on the bed and pushed her back against the wall, her legs stretched out over the mattress. Then she drew the blanket over her legs and held up the unused side in invitation. "You're freezing, too."

The expression of touched wonder on his face was something she would never get over. He looked so utterly thrilled and beside himself that this was real, that she was really inviting him to snuggle with her.

The feeling that went through her when he accepted the invitation was something else she would never get over. Butterflies flitted in her stomach as he eased down beside her and her heart started to race when he drew the blanket over his own legs and snuggled closer, closing the distance between them.

She couldn't help snuggling into his warmth and letting his presence chase away the rest of her chills. And she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips when his fingers start gently combing the snarls out of her wet hair.

Killian Jones was unbelievably gentle and tender, and he was _hers_. After everything she'd been through, after all her time alone, and after having been betrayed so many times by so many different people, she could hardly believe she had that safety and that security and that love now. She was so grateful that she'd found him and that he'd found her.

"How much more life do you think the storm has in it?" she asked after a moment or two of comfortable silence. To her relief, her stomach was beginning to settle.

"It's hard to say," Killian admitted, his gaze drifting to the windows. "The clouds were moving at a decent clip, though, which means it's not likely to stall over us."

Emma nodded but before she could say anything in response, her phone beeped. Frowning, she pulled the phone out from under the pillow to find a concerned-mom text from Snow: _Are you two all right out there? It's starting to clear up here but we can still see clouds over the water!_

With a roll of her eyes, Emma composed a text in reply to let Snow know she could stop being a concerned mom.

Killian snickered when Emma returned the phone to its resting place under the pillow once the message was sent. "She worries about you. It's sweet."

Emma sent him a glare. Of course, it was sweet, and as annoying as it could be sometimes to be treated like a little kid who had to check in with her mommy, Emma loved it. She loved having a mom who loved her enough to worry about her. Hell, she loved having a mom, period.

That being said, she still had a reputation to uphold. "Yeah, I guess," she sighed.

Killian smirked. He'd always been able to read her like a book and it was obvious now that he saw right through her annoyed-daughter facade. "Shut up," Emma said, fighting a smile of her own.

"I didn't say a word, love."

"No, but you were going to."

He chuckled, tightened his arm around her, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Emma smiled, her eyes dropping closed against the kiss. She let the quiet moment linger another few seconds before asking, "Now what do we do?"

Killian didn't respond in words. He simply removed his arm from around her shoulders, tucked his hand into his jacket, and withdrew his flask. Then he handed it over to her with a smirk. "Bottoms up, love."

His smirk was contagious. She slipped the flask from his hand and downed a swig. Once again, the burn of the alcohol sent warmth through her veins, warmth she knew wasn't scientifically accurate but felt real enough for her.

They passed the flask back and forth. Sometimes they chatted, sometimes they just sat in comfortable silence. Killian kept glancing at her, probably to make sure she wasn't going to lose her lunch from the lingering seasickness. "My stomach's settled," she said after the fourth or fifth sidelong glance. "You don't have to watch me like I'm going to hurl any second now."

He smiled sheepishly at her. "There's still a pallor to your skin, love. I'm glad you're feeling better, though."

By the time Emma noticed that the ship wasn't bobbing nearly as much as it had been, she had a fairly decent buzz going. "Either the rum's getting to me more than I think or the storm's on its way out," she said.

"Come to think of it," Killian said as he pushed himself off the bed to check, "I don't believe I've heard the thunder in a while." He strode over to the window. "Aye, the sky's brightening behind us. We should be all right to start heading home."

Though Emma should have been ecstatic to get off the rolling ocean and back on dry land – her stomach had settled for the most part but she still felt a little lightheaded from the motion – disappointment sank in her chest. It took her a moment to realize why she was disappointed: she didn't want the afternoon to end.

Killian must have been able to read her again because he crossed the room and sat back down beside her, a gentle smile on his lips. "I know this afternoon has not gone at all how we'd planned but a change in venue doesn't mean we have to separate once we get back to Storybrooke."

"I know," she sighed. "I just … wanted this afternoon to be special. We don't get very many of them."

"No, we don't," he allowed, "but if I may, this afternoon wasn't special because we were on the ocean. It's special because we're together, just the two of us."

She looked up at him in touched surprised. Well, now she felt like a dope. "All right, who said you could bring logic into this?"

He chuckled and pressed another kiss to the side of her head. "Not to mention that it still doesn't look like you feel well enough to handle much more time at sea today. I'm sorry that the waves bothered you so."

"Thanks." She shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "I am, too, but I'm glad you were here with me to help make it better."

Killian smiled, stood, and held his hand out to her. She grasped it and pushed herself to her feet and as one, they headed up to the deck so they could make their way home.

Much to Emma's relief, the rain had stopped. The wind was still gusting, though, and the seas were still pretty rough. She hadn't felt it as much below decks but up here, the world was still a constant up and down. The unpleasantness began roiling in Emma's stomach again but just when she thought she might have to run to the rail, Killian stepped up behind her. "Close your eyes," he murmured into her ear, "and take deep breaths through your nose."

Wordlessly, she did as he instructed. A few seconds of keeping her eyes closed had already made the bobbing seem less pronounced. Just when she was about to snark that she couldn't very well help him sail home without being able to see where they were going, he said, again very softly, "Once your stomach settles, I want you to open your eyes and focus straight ahead, not at the horizon but at the sky just above it. The horizon should be in your peripheral vision but don't stare at it."

Emma nodded to let him know she'd heard him. She took a couple more deep breaths and slowly opened her eyes. Just as Killian said, she focused her gaze on the wispy gray clouds over the horizon. After a moment or two, the discomfort in her stomach eased. "Wow," she murmured.

She heard his soft chuckle in her ear. "Feeling better now?"

"Much." She turned around and smiled at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, love. Just don't get too focused on the horizon again or the nausea will come back. Do you think you're all right to man the helm on the way home?"

"Of course," she smiled. Just as before on their trip out here, Emma took her place at the helm and Killian stood behind her, his hand over hers on the wheel as they guided the _Jolly Roger_ back to Storybrooke.

Navigating the open ocean boggled Emma's mind. All she saw around her was water. She had no clue how Killian was able to expertly tell direction or chart a course with no landmarks to help guide him. Henry had tried to explain it to her – he was a bit further along in his sailing studies than Emma was – but he'd lost her once he started talking about the sun and the horizon and angles. She'd never been all that great at geometry.

Of course, Henry and Killian had charted the waters off Storybrooke so on some level, she understood that the route out and back was as familiar to Killian as driving to work was to her. Still, it might as well have been magic, for all Emma understood of it.

It was certainly magical to watch. For a while, there was nothing but ocean. Then the harbor would appear as a mere dot along the horizon. The dot would grow and become clearer until the docks were in sight and Storybrooke welcomed them home.

Emma always let Killian take over parking the ship. (" _Docking_ the ship," he'd corrected her more than once. "We don't _park_ a ship, we _dock_ her.") Watching him expertly slide the massive ship into her comparatively tiny slip was also nothing short of magic.

Emma noted as they disembarked that there was no wind at all here. The storm had indeed completely blown over.

She'd just pulled out her phone to call Snow and let her know that they were back on terra firma, no worse for the wear except for her tiny amount of lingering nausea, when she heard someone calling her name.

Snow, she realized when she looked up. She and David were both waving at her in the brightening sunlight with little Neal nestled in the stroller in front of them. Emma swallowed a groan and Killian swallowed an amused snicker.

"Were you two waiting for us?" Emma asked incredulously as the two couples approached each other.

"Of course not," David insisted, though Snow's sheepish smile said otherwise. "The weather cleared and we decided to take Neal for a walk, get him some fresh air."

"All the way down here at the docks," Emma deadpanned, "and with you leaving your post at the station to do so."

"Scout's honor," David promised.

"You weren't a Scout."

He just grinned.

Emma heaved a sigh, shaking her head. Parents.

It was only as the four of them began heading back to town that Snow finally addressed the elephant in the room. "What on earth are you two wearing?"

Emma and Killian, who'd forgotten that they'd changed out of their wet clothes, looked down at their attire, exchanged a glance, and swallowed snickers. "Pirate pajamas are going to be the new fashion trend," Emma teased. "Just you wait."

Her parents shared a bewildered glance – and David pursed his lips in overprotective-dad annoyance – but Emma smiled. Killian was right; the venue wasn't what made something special. The people she shared that something with … they were what made the moments she'd remember all her life.


End file.
